


God's OTP

by witchy_teacup



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Crowley Is A Pine Tree In Sunglasses, Fluff, Frivolous Miracles, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Missing Scene, Mostly Canon Compliant, Mutual Pining, Other, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), oh my Me there was only one bed!, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_teacup/pseuds/witchy_teacup
Summary: God ships it. Now, if only a certain angel and demon would get the message...I'm terrible at summaries (and titles), but what can you do?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 163





	God's OTP

The archangel Gabriel stood before the Metatron, face carefully devoid of emotion. The Metatron spoke, saying, “Archangel Gabriel, be not afraid. To speak with the Metatron is to speak with God.”

“Speak oh Lord,” the archangel intoned pompously. He missed the Metatron’s eye roll as he bowed slightly at the waist.

“The Principality Aziraphale has been removed from your purview.”

“What?” the archangel shrieked, momentarily forgetting to whom he was speaking.

“Peace! Do not interrupt the Lord, your God!” The Metatron’s expression flared briefly before they schooled it back into their common blank look. “The unordained ‘trial’ of My emissary on Earth has proven that the Principality Aziraphale’s supervision must be handled by a higher power.”

“But my Lord,” Gabriel tried to object.

“Peace! This is the Word of the Lord your God! Any further interference on your part will result in an immediate re-evaluation of your performance.” This time Gabriel didn’t miss the Metatron’s smug look.

The archangel grit his teeth and bowed again saying, “As the Lord commands...”

*************

Ask a human what God looks like, and you’ll typically get the same generic response which makes the universe’s creator sound like a mix between Santa Claus and someone’s grandfather. 

This couldn’t be further from the truth.

God is, first of all, a woman. She, of course, made man in Her image, but having no use for secondary sexual characteristics Herself, She got a bit carried away with Adam’s bits. She rectified Her enthusiasm on the second, more accurate, model, Eve. 

In recent years, God had, of course, been on the edge of Her seat as She watched Her favorite immortals, the Principality Aziraphale and the Fallen Angel Crowley, race to save the planet and humanity from this so-called Great Plan the rest of Her ethereal and occult children were so set on bringing about. Of course, the whole reason She had let Crowley Fall was that She had seen this coming and planned accordingly. 

She had watched closely as together with the Antichrist, Adam Young, they had stood against Her most rebellious child, Lucifer, and won. She smiled on them as Adam reset the changes brought about by the How-About-Notcolypse, going so far as to reset the angel and demon’s personal sacrifices that he had no idea about.

She watched as Crowley offered to let Aziraphale stay at his place as they shared a bottle of wine at a lonely bus stop. She cheered as Her fussy little angel gathered his courage and took the demon’s hand as the bus trundled back towards London. She gently planted the idea in his mind that a hotel would be safer than returning to either of the places their head offices knew about, and She fist pumped when Crowley had shyly agreed. Of course, She made sure that the only room available had only one bed and not so much as a crappy couch or sufficiently large armchair for sleeping—She was rather fond of that particular trope, after all.

God frowned as She leafed through Her copy of Agnes Nutter’s book, as instead of sleeping, the angel and the demon spent the night debating the meaning of the aforementioned witch’s final prophecy. “Come on, you ineffable idiots! Figure this out,” She shouted at the widescreen hanging on the wall of Her office. “The sooner you figure it out, the sooner we can get to the kissing! I mean, come on! There’s only one bed! It’s not hard!”

She sighed in relief as something finally sparked in her brilliant demon’s head.

“Angel,” he said slowly, yellow eyes moving slowly up to meet befuddled blue (“Yes!” God had cheered—She loves how every time Crowley said “Angel” he really meant “I love you”. She had given that idea to William Goldman because it was another one of Her favorite tropes.), “I think I’ve got it.”

“Well don’t leave me in suspense, dear boy!” the angel had cried, lunging across the bed to grip the demon’s hands in earnest. (“Way to take the initiative, Aziraphale!” God had hooted at the screen, grinning widely.)

Crowley blushed and hoped that the room’s rather poor lighting would hide it. It didn’t because God wanted the principality to notice his affect on the demon. “W-well, I know my side is going to be murderous, and there’s only one way that I know of that can, well, permanently kill a demon...”

He trailed off, eyes misting over with regret at their biggest miscommunication back in the 1870’s. Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he too remembered the note that he had angrily flung into the duck pond at St. James’ Park. “N-no!” he breathed, tears gathering in those bright blue eyes. “They couldn’t possibly! No one in Hell—“

Crowley nodded as the angel cut himself off with a sharply drawn breath. “You saw how cozy Gabriel and Beelzebub were at the air base. What if we’re not the only angel and demon on speaking terms?”

“But that means—they would never! She wouldn’t allow it!”

“I can’t take that risk, angel,” Crowley said, squeezing Aziraphale’s hands to emphasize his point. “If Heaven gives Hell holy water, then Hell could very well give Heaven hellfire.” His gaze is vulnerable as he breathes, “I can’t lose you again, Aziraphale.”

“Oh my dear Crowley,” the angel breathes. (The tenderness and love in his voice makes God pull a handkerchief from nothing and wipe Her eyes. She had made them for this.)

Crowley found himself leaning in towards his angel as if drawn by some inexplicable force. He pulled himself up short through a monumental exercise of self-control. (“No! You stupid demon! When I wanted you to question things, I meant Me! Not this!” God shrieked at the screen.) “If only I could take your place, angel. Hellfire wouldn’t work on me.”

“That’s it!” Aziraphale shouted then slapped a hand across his own mouth. He leaned forward until it was all Crowley could do to keep himself from closing the distance and kissing the angel thoroughly. He struggled to focus as Aziraphale whispered, “We choose our faces wisely! We swap bodies! That way, if worse comes to worse, they can’t destroy us.”

God grinned and leaned toward the screen, knowing what Crowley was about to say was the result of 6000 years of build up.

“It just might work, Angel,” he said with hope blossoming in his heart despite his innate doubt. He drew together the scraps of his courage and said, “There’s just one thing, Angel.”

Aziraphale gave him a small smile of support and said, “Yes, my dear?”

“We’ve had a good run, but if everything goes pear-shaped, there’s still one thing that I don’t want to have missed out on,” Crowley said, serpentine eyes lingering on those gently smiling lips. 

“What would that be?” Aziraphale asked, as if he didn’t know, didn’t feel it in the very fiber of his being.

“I’ve never kissed you.”

Aziraphale blushed prettily and said, “You’ve never asked.” Then as they closed the gap and their lips met for the first time, in a kiss 6000 years in the making, God blotted the tears of joy from Her eyes and relaxed into Her office chair, switching the channel to push notifications only, to grant Her favorite children some privacy even though She knew that they wouldn’t get past kissing on this night.

The following morning, She watched, biting Her lip as Crowley and Aziraphale were abducted wearing each other’s bodies. She miracled up another screen so She could watch both of their “trials” simultaneously. 

She cried over the grace with which Crowley faced Aziraphale’s intended execution. He offered forgiveness and radiated humility until Gabriel said, “Shut your stupid mouth and die already.” She twisted the handkerchief in Her hands as She caught the briefest flash of outrage cross the normally soft features of Her chosen emissary on Earth, and cheered when he exhaled hellfire at Gabriel’s smug face. 

She grinned proudly at the confidence Her sweet Aziraphale projected in Crowley’s slender form as he faced Beelzebub’s judgment, and laughed as he lazily inquired, “I don’t suppose that anywhere in the Nine Circles of Hell there’s such a thing as a rubber duck?” She felt ineffably proud as Aziraphale splashed holy water casually in the middle of Hell and asked the archangel Michael to miracle him a towel.

Having witnessed the angel and demon’s fulfillment of Her plan for establishing Her favorites’ chances of a long happily ever after, God got to work on Her end. She sent off a memo to the Prince of Hell and sent for the Metatron to come pick up Her message for Gabriel. 

That done, She picked up Her mobile and set a new ringtone (“Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” by Queen) for Aziraphale’s miracle notifications. Then, smirking, She set Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” as the notification tone for Crowley’s. She had a good chuckle at Her own joke as She watched the pair reconvene at their favorite park bench and switch back into their bodies. 

She miracled up a tub of popcorn as She watched them dining at the Ritz and smiled blindingly as She gently nudged a nightingale to sing in Berkeley Square.

“Angel, do you think it’s wise using miracles for marshmallows and cocoa?” Crowley asked as he lazily watched the angel in question hand him his mug of tea.

Aziraphale gave a careless shrug of one shoulder as he sipped his cocoa. “After my ‘trial’ I doubt Gabriel is going to confront me about frivolous miracles any time soon,” he said artlessly. 

Crowley hid his grin with his mug, delighted with how much his angel had relaxed, post-Armagedholdonaminute. He loved how casually Aziraphale was letting his bastard side show. As he sipped his tea, he marveled over the other new development in the angel. Aziraphale joined him on the sofa and swung his stout legs up, draping them over Crowley’s lap as he sipped his cocoa. He didn’t even protest when Crowley’s long fingers started tracing nonsensical patterns across his shins. 

Crowley delighted in this newfound physical aspect of their relationship. The angel had been taking full advantage of every opportunity he could find to touch his demon. Crowley, of course, was thrilled every time it happened, and wondered what else might happen now that they were both essentially unemployed.

Aziraphale for his part, was slightly terrified that after telling Crowley that he went too fast for him less than a century ago, that the demon would freak out if he pushed too hard too fast. So, he had decided that he would lead up to that, by being uncharacteristically bold. He knew that Crowley loved him. The demon radiated enough love that if love were interchangeable with electricity he could have single-handedly powered all of central London when he was near the angel. Aziraphale would have had to have been metaphysically blind to not see it.

Crowley on the other hand, still wasn’t convinced that their kisses the night before their sham trials had really happened. And if they had, he reasoned, they hadn’t meant to the angel what they had meant to him. So, here he was, with the object of his desires very nearly draped over his lap, refusing to read anything into the newfound intimacy the angel was lavishing on him. 

God smiled as She got the fifteenth beverage related miracle notification from Aziraphale this week (and it was only Tuesday). She was glad to know that Aziraphale was enjoying Her Creation. She was more than glad to allow for as many minor miracles as Her child felt he needed, especially since the demon She had made for him was being so very difficult. 

She knew She had made Crowley particularly hard-headed, because She had known that he was going to need that stubbornness to survive being a not-quite-proper demon in Hell’s dominion for 6000 some odd years. She knew this. But that didn’t stop Her from shouting at the screen every time Aziraphale gave Crowley an opening, an opportunity to take their relationship to the next level, every time the angel practically begged to be kissed or claimed or taken (wordlessly of course, She had made Aziraphale too much of a gentleman to just come out and say such things without the proper combination of frustration and annoyance).

Thus far, nearly three months had passed since the Nopepocalypse, and She was growing tired of waiting for Her favorite OTP to hurry up and get together. She could feel Aziraphale was growing tired of waiting too. As She watched Crowley turn a blind eye on Aziraphale’s fifth attempt in an hour to get him to kiss him, She snapped. 

She flipped the switch on the not-really-an-intercom on Her desk and opened a Direct Line. 

In a very familiar bookshop in Soho, a bright light suddenly streamed into the cozy little back room, startling an angel and a demon into silence.

“Aziraphale,” She began, “Crowley, can we please get on with this?”

“M-my Lord?” squeaked Aziraphale.

Crowley flinched at his name in that Heavenly voice and asked, “On-on with what?”

“It’s not proper,” She began to explain patiently, “Crowley, you may have never been a proper one, but you are a demon—I know you know a temptation when you see one! So how is it, that you have the angel, you and I both know you’ve been pining over since Eden, tempting you, and you haven’t done a singled damned thing about it? Do you think I gave you those sinful hips for nothing?”

Aziraphale blushed when She called him out for trying to tempt Crowley into furthering their relationship.

Crowley’s face turned bright red and he wished he had his sunglasses on even though he knew She could see right through him.

God sighed. She could see She wasn’t really getting through to them. “Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate. Fallen Angel Crowley, Serpent of Eden. Hear Me and know that I am God,” She said, playing Her trump card. “Together you have subverted the Apocalypse and stood with humanity against the hosts of Heaven and Hell. I am well pleased with you two. You have My blessing. Do with your lives as you wish. I am watching over you.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath to steady himself and asked, “We’re safe? Truly?”

God smiled gently, and Aziraphale could tell from the quality of the light flooding the bookshop that She was. “Yes, truly safe, My child. Neither Heaven nor Hell shall touch you. This is your reward. Be happy. Cherish your love. There is nothing in Creation that can match the gift of love.” She smiled again at the look of pure joy on Aziraphale’s face. “Go in peace, My children.”

The light slowly faded and left the angel and demon blinking in the dimness. Crowley turned to face Aziraphale and found him smiling gently as tears rolled down his plump cheeks. “My dear,” he whispered, afraid his voice would fail him.

“Angel, I,” Crowley started. He drew a shaky breath and tried again. “Aziraphale, I—is it true? What She said?”

Aziraphale shyly nodded, offering his trembling hands to his best friend. Crowley grasped both of the angel’s hands and asked the question he hadn’t dared to even think before now, “So, is it true what you said in Tadfield? About being able to sense l-love?”

Aziraphale bit his lip and nodded. Crowley took a deep shaky breath and said, “S-so you know?”

Again the same shy nod. “I didn’t want to say anything—I wanted you to have a chance to tell me when you were ready...”

Crowley ran his thumbs over Aziraphale’s knuckles, huffing out a halfhearted laugh. “So now what, Angel?”

Aziraphale shifted to sit in Crowley’s lap. He shyly met Crowley’s yellow gaze and said in a rush, “You could kiss me.”

Crowley let go of the angel’s hands to give into an urge 6000 years in the making and plunged his hands into Aziraphale’s fluffy blond curls. He brought their lips together gently, chastely. Then Aziraphale melted into the kiss and moaned, and then he was shifting to straddle Crowley’s lap, and all thoughts of chastity flew out the window. Crowley groaned and threw himself into the kiss. 

In Her office, God grinned as the angel and demon She had made for each other lost themselves in each other’s arms. She leaned back in Her chair and flipped their channel to push notifications only. With a gesture of Her hand She miracled a cup of cocoa with marshmallows onto Her desk. After all, She deserved a treat for Her hand in what She modestly considered the greatest love story ever told.

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you've made it this far, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! Let me know what you thought, or don't, I'm just glad I finally got the nerve to post this ^^;;
> 
> The premise for this fic was my own ineffable wife randomly wondering aloud if God smiled every time Aziraphale used a miracle for more marshmallows in his cocoa, so blame her I guess? 
> 
> I haven't written fanfiction in over 8 years, so I'm very rusty. And, quite frankly, I've been terrified of posting this, but these Ineffable Idiots (and Sheen and Tennant's portrayals of my absolute favorite characters ever), give me so many FEELS that I end up pterodactyl-shrieking every time I go online, so...yeah...it was either write fic or explode from FEELS overload, and my wife informed me that I'm not allowed to ruin the soft furnishings like that, so, here we are!
> 
> Until the next time I find enough courage to post, I hope you all have a lovely day and as many marshmallows as your hearts desire!


End file.
